


How'd You Get So Doggone Pretty?

by FyrMaiden



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Pirates, terrible puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5983338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana's suggestion that they attend Rachel's costume party as pirates serves as the perfect excuse for Kurt to confess he once had a fantasy about Blaine...</p>
            </blockquote>





	How'd You Get So Doggone Pretty?

**Author's Note:**

> For a vague and non specific set of tags (#and kurt’s all like #shit #there goes my pirate sex fantasy #and blaine is just high as a kite), found [here](http://vampireisabitstrong.tumblr.com/post/139012678436/enslayed-zcatz-and-kurts-all)

Santana lets herself in, the way she always does. Blaine doesn’t remember giving her a key, and Kurt is adamant that he didn’t either, and she denies, with equal vehemence, having one copied. Kurt threatens, occasionally, to just change the locks on her, which she meets with a withering stare. It’s been three years, and the key still works, and the threat has long since lost any kind of traction or substance.

She dumps her bag on the kitchen counter, and her latte beside it. Blaine surreptitiously slides a coaster toward her, and she rolls her eyes but stands her cup on it all the same. 

“So I was thinking,” she announces, and digs through her bag for something, only to catch sight of Kurt and Blaine’s copy magnet pinned to the door of the refrigerator. She snatches it off and waves it at them. “Berry’s Halloween Party,” she says. “Double date. Pirates. You in?” 

Blaine shakes his head slowly, and then glances at Kurt for back up. Kurt has his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed as he stares at Santana. She, in turn, shakes out her hair and takes a sip of her latte, their invitation on the counter in front of her.

“Read the theme again?” Kurt says. Santana doesn’t even glance at the card.

“Disney,” she says, and barrels ahead when Kurt opens his mouth. “Like, don’t even try to tell me that she hasn’t chosen this theme just for an excuse to roll her hair in cinnamon bun earmuffs and argue with everyone she can make stand still for three minutes that Leia is a Disney princess now, or that Carrie Fisher is _also_ Jewish, so her costume works on _multiple_ levels, to a point where I will be a heralded savior when I swoop in with vodka cocktails and a funny anecdote about the time when we lived together. We should go as pirates. Me and Blaine, Kurt and Brittany. Thematically appropriate, and a little badass.”

Blaine is cautious when he says that he’s not sure that _pirates_ is quite what Rachel means, and y’know, maybe Esmerelda would be safer? Santana levels her glare at him.

“If Berry can dress herself in a white bedsheet, then I can historically expose my boobs _and_ wear a shirt with enough material to sail us all around the Caribbean,” she says. “Besides. Penlope Cruz was in that movie, and I am therefore very much _on theme_. I’m going as a pirate, you ridiculous little Peep, and you are coming with me, and so is cheekbones. Buckle up.” 

Blaine gives up and nods his head, and she smiles and presses a scarlet kiss to his cheek, and leaves her empty takeout cup on the counter when she torandoes back back out of the door. Blaine whistles a sigh, his cheeks hollowing as he breathes in and out slowly. He pins the invitation back to the fridge, and turns back to face Kurt.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, rounding the kitchen island and drawing Kurt back down onto the couch with him, where both of them had been headed before Hurricane Santana had burst into their apartment. “We don’t have to go along with her.” 

Kurt physically shakes himself, nods his head once up and down. “Mm,” he says. “Yeah. It’s just - do you remember when Sebastian tried to blind you?”

The segue seems odd, but Blaine has learned to roll with it now. 

“Technically?” he says, rubbing the corner of his eye subconsciously. Kurt reaches to push his hand away, and Blaine blinks at him and then at their hands. He turns his over and tangles his fingers with Kurt’s, because he can. Because no one can stop him from doing it ever again. “Technically, he was trying to blind you.”

Kurt - older now, and less inclined to defensive prickliness over boys who wanted Blaine when they were teenagers - snorts a laugh. 

“Semantics,” he says, and lifts Blaine’s hand to his mouth, presses kisses to each of his knuckles. “Do you remember when you came out of hospital, and your mom had you on strict home confinement?”

“Honestly?”

Kurt smiles encouragingly and nods, and Blaine quirks a grin, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“Not so much,” he says. “I mean, the pain meds they had me on had me all over for a while.”

Kurt’s smile bursts into a laugh, and he lets go of Blaine’s hand to clap both of his together beneath his chin, rocking backwards as mirth ricochets off of each of his ribs in turn. 

“I knew it!” he says, and then, at Blaine’s perplexed look, “I mean, I didn’t _know_ know, but like. You were just so full of smiles, and the way you looked at everyone like it was the first time you’d seen them and you already loved them so much you might die? And then things you would say, Blaine. You were you, but _more_. But anyway. You came home with that eyepatch, yeah?”

Blaine nods, and covers one of his eyes with his hand. “I couldn’t tell how far away things were. My depth perception went to hell. I kept tipping my water off of the table. Mom would just fill it back up, but Dad was so frustrated. I pretty much stayed in my room out of the way.” 

Kurt makes a sad moue, and Blaine uncovers his eye. His mouth and his eyebrows are drawn down, and he has lost the levity he had only moments before, lost in the memory of being 15 and out of place in his own existence for a moment.

“So anyway,” Kurt says, to fill the silence and to make Blaine smile again. His face, always beautiful, lights up when he’s happy. Kurt loves how his eyes crinkle and disappear into his smile. “You came home with that eyepatch, and all I could think of were really, _really_ terrible pirate puns, which were _wildly_ inappropriate. There you were, high as a kite and naked inside of your pajamas -”

“I’m always naked inside of my clothes,” Blaine says, and Kurt grins and waggles his eyebrows, which makes Blaine’s cheeks colour in response.

“- naked and probably _blind_ and I just kept wanting to crawl across the bed and ask you to make _my_ timber shiver.”

Blaine bites his lip, his grin bubbling at the edges of his mouth regardless, and Kurt feels the blood burning in his cheeks creep slowly toward his hairline. Blaine, in turn, loses his fight with laughter, and the explosion that bursts out of him rocks him backwards, his spine colliding with the arm of the couch causing him to wince and sit up.

“Seriously?” he says, and Kurt nods. He’s pretty sure he’s turned pink all the way up to the tips of his hair now. Blaine leans forward to press a kiss to his mouth, off centre and awkward. “That was the best you could manage?”

“I was 16!” Kurt protests, kissing Blaine’s cheek reflexively. “I’d barely learned how to tell you that sex was something we could actually have, y’know?” 

“So if we do go to Rachel’s party as pirates, and if I do wear an eyepatch, am I going to come home with my clothes still on?” Blaine presses a kiss to Kurt’s jaw, and then his throat when Kurt tils his head to expose his neck.

“You’re gross,” Kurt says. “I don’t know what teenage me was thinking.”

Blaine is laughing again when he sits up. He composes his face slowly, and coughs, and then, with a straight face: “About firing your cannon through my porthole, apparently.” A grin escapes him, and then he’s laughing again. “Incidentally, I would probably have let you do it. If you’d asked.” 

“Alas,” Kurt says, electing to ignore the actual words and focus on the intent. “Finn and Rachel chose that exact moment to turn up with soup and a sappy song about finding friends in unlikely places. Or whatever.”

“So how about a do-over?” Blaine nudges. “You know. Poet sleeves, tight breeches, lots and lots of laces. And then we can come home, and you can scrape the barnacles off of my rudder?”

This time, it’s Kurt who laughs, easy and free and full of love. He pushes Blaine away and gets up off of the couch. “If I agree to this double date ridiculousness with Santana and Brittany, will you stop with the _terrible_ lines?”

“I’m not sure,” Blaine says. “I mean, I was blind and high on pain meds and you - the concerned and devoted boyfriend - were thinking about blowing a hole in my hull.”

Kurt leans in and picks up a pillow, throws it at his head. Blaine ducks and laughs and then, more seriously, says, “How do you feel about a Caribbean cruise for our tenth anniversary?”

Kurt doesn’t answer, but the eyepatch from the party does find a home in Blaine’s sock drawer later...


End file.
